The telephone was first patented by Alexander Graham Bell in 1876 — only six months prior to Fred Thompson patenting the telemarketing call in 1877.

To paraphrase Tim Wilson, I believe if Mr. Bell had known the telephone would evolve into the smartphone, he would have scrapped it and just fixed the toaster like his wife had asked him to. Bell is also credited with inventing the metal detector, the hula hoop and the Cross Your Heart bra.

I’m no Luddite, but the whole phone thing has gotten way out of hand. At concerts, people are on their phones texting about the show instead of watching it. In movie theaters these days, there are so many phones lit up it looks like ET’s family reunion.

Just this weekend, I saw a guy trying to text while operating a leaf blower.

So far, I’ve avoided the whole smartphone revolution. Until recently, I clung to my basic cell phone with the grip of a rustic watchdog on a revenuer’s ankle. That beautiful, out-of-date phone was about half the size of a Mr. Goodbar but twice as sweet. On one full charge, I could make it through a five-day work week.

As for my cellphone plan, I kept it pretty basic: Phone.

Long-suffering readers of this space know how much guff I took for having an old TV in my living room, but it was nothing in comparison to the grief I had to endure over my phone.

“Do you have to put a quarter in it?” “Do you have to wind it up?” “Did you win it as a prize from a gumball machine?”

Phone elitists, techno-snobs and all-out dunderpates scoffed at my phone as if it were responsible for canceling “Seinfeld.” I’ve seen people stand up in court to address those convicted of heinous crimes have better dispositions than those who talked so ugly about my tattered but dependable little phone. That little sucker rang if I had a call, and that’s all I needed it to do.

This abhorrence of smartphones has nothing to do with age but rather a belief that some things have been perfected, such as bikinis, DVD players and pizza. I’m not a drinker, but it turns out we’re still trying to build a better alcohol delivery device. Apparently, beer cans now come equipped with an extra opening that will facilitate a quicker transfer of beer into your pie hole.

My prediction: Each 12-pack of brewski will come equipped with its own funnel and fake ID card by January.

For years, I owned a VCR, but when DVD players came along, I realized they were an improvement. Now, all of a sudden, we have Blu-ray players, which supposedly have enough clarity to make the pores on Christian Bale’s nose viewable from outer space. If you’re really into movies loaded with special effects, I can see where a Blu-ray player might be a good investment.

As for the bikini, that’s been a champion product for many decades now, so let’s forego any further R&D on what I think we can all agree is a home run.

You lunatics at the corporate level of pizza companies, just stop it right now. There is enough cheese on the pizza without injecting more of it into the crust, the napkins and the soda.

Some of us leave those bits of plain crust behind so we can tell ourselves, “Well, at least I didn’t eat the whole thing.” If you squirt cheese into the part of the crust none of us eat, we’re going to end up eating it and that’s going to be a major blow to our self-esteem, which will in turn make us eat more pizza.

Oh, I see what you guys did there — touché.

I owned a smartphone briefly a few years ago. At work, we were issued Samsung Moment phones by our former owners, and never has a product been more aptly named.

At full battery power, those phones needed a cigarette and a nap after three calls and a text message. I once tried to send a photo while it was plugged in and it still shut down. I used the phone’s GPS app once while trying to find an address in Raleigh.

I realized it wasn’t very reliable when I T-boned a horse and buggy up around Pennsylvania.

Jon Dawson’s columns appear every Tuesday and Thursday in The Free Press. Contact Jon at 252-559-1092 or jon.dawson@kinston.com or 252-559-1092. Purchase Third Of Never’s new album “Downrising” at jondawson.com.